Study of a Criminal
by chocolatemuffin
Summary: This is a closer look at John Bender, and follows a set of events that could have taken place after THAT Saturday. If you love him, read it. If you hate him, read it still and see if it changes your mind. Chapters will be added, please read and review.
1. Cuts

**Author's note: I don't own the movie or the characters, but I like to make them dance around for your reading pleasure. Please read and review. My reason for writing this? People tend to think that Bender is mean and I wanted to show you why. More chapters to come.**

It didn't matter how you looked at him. You hated him. John Bender was a rude, immature pig. That's what everybody thought. That's what John thought about himself.

It had gotten to the point where he didn't care any more. He was the asshole who shouted at the teachers and was always in detention. Like anybody actually cared about him.

Andrew had put it into the right words; "You don't even matter. You could disappear and nobody would even care,".

This was what John told himself as he left the school that Saturday. Claire had kissed him because he was her bad boy. He knew that she wouldn't give him the time of day back at school. Like he even wanted it.

As he slouched along the road back to his house he thought about the others. He thought about Claire, and her prissiness. He thought about Andrew and the way he had fallen for the basket case, he thought about Allison and how she would never fit in, about Brian and his stupid, perfect life. Most importantly, he thought about Vernon. Dick. Sorry - Rich.

He had threatened him. The worst part was that he knew that what he had said was true. Nobody would believe him. His parents - he didn't even consider them. The other teachers - would you believe the boy who set fire to the homecoming queen? His friends - did he even have any? Sure, he hung out with people, but he didn't really know them. They were his dope group. That was it.

He heaved a sigh and kicked the wall. He hated this stupid place.

Again the words came to him; 'You don't even matter.'

Those same words that kept him awake that night. He tossed and turned, trying to sleep. Now he remembered why he tried to be out most nights and fall asleep on somebody's roof. He could hear his parents in the next room. Arguing. They argued all night and then in the morning his mother went off to sleep with a 19 year old who worked in Bargain Barn with her. He didn't know what his father did -and frankly, he didn't give a damn.

He stood up and walked outside. He needed air. He tried not to look at his reflection as he passed the large hall mirror. He couldn't help it though. What did he see? An idiot. An idiot wearing a grey t-shirt, complete with sweat patches, and a pair of cruddy boxers. An idiot who still had nightmares about clowns and got up early so that he could watch kid's cartoons.

John looked aware fiercely. He walked outside into the yard and headed to the garage. He sat down, pulling off his t-shirt. He moved his hands to his stomach, and stroked a scar. They were thin, long. They ran across his stomach, straight lines. He had no idea if they would ever go. He didn't care. You couldn't see them unless you were looking for them.

He reached around the garage, searching for his knife. He found it, lying on top of the work-top, where he'd thrown it upon arrival from detention. He picked it up, and concentrated on the next set of cuts...


	2. Tierney

**Author's Note- Thank you to everyone who reviewed, I love knowing what people think of the stuff I write. Especially if they have a good opinion of it :D I've tried to do a good follow up, letting out slightly more of Bender's personality. Please read and review, thankies. Oh, and Fuzzles, I understand what you meant about letting people feel his pain, and will try to do so. **

John knew the speech by heart now. He had performed it so well yesterday. What was it again? 'Lazy, stupid…'. He tried to leave before his father hit him. He never could. He just argued. It was stupid - he knew.

He was out now though. Walking to Tierney's house for the party. Same old, same old.

His coat kept him warm from the cold wind. As he walked his stomach ached, but he'd learnt to ignore it. It was like a stitch.

He approached the house. Tierney was loaded, his parents didn't care what he did. He paid for a lot of the weed, and had a new girlfriend every week. Bender was getting bored of the girlfriends, they were all the same. Blonde, stupid, and dressed in mini skirts.

At least his own had some differences. Enough for him to tell them apart, anyway. As though they even cared when he cried out the wrong name. They returned the favour. He had heard so many "Oh, Pete!"'s and "Oh, George"'s, Claire said that it was wrong for a guy to have more than one girl, so what about when a girl had more than one guy? Oh wait, simple - she was a slut.

He could see groups of them, kissing his friends and guys he'd never seen before. They were all the same.

He walked through the open doorway, treading carefully over the various couples and wasted individuals lying around. One was sprawled in the doorway to the kitchen. He kicked them fiercely in the stomach and waited for the groans to subside, before stepping over him.

Loud rock music pumped through the walls, it gave John a headache. He wondered what the others would be doing right now, whilst he lit up.

"Hey, Bender," a low voice called from the other room. Tierney. Bender rolled his eyes to himself and got ready to see his friend.

"Hey, asshole," he replied. Tierney was approaching, one arm wrapped around his latest girlfriend. His hair was a mop of greasy black curls, and hung over his face.

"How was Vern yesterday?" Tierney asked, seeming not to notice the blonde nuzzling his neck.

"Same son-of-a-bitch as always," John said loudly, so that he could be heard over the music.

Tierney smirked.

"Hey, Oliver, I'm gonna go get a drink," the blonde said to Tierney in a sickly sweet voice. Tierney smiled, and she left the room. Bender watched.

"Where d'you pick her up?" he asked.

"Work," he replied. Bender knew what that meant. Probably _her _work.

Bender looked away from his 'friend', frowning to himself. He didn't know why, but somehow he felt above that shit. Tierney must have noticed.

"What's wrong with you?" Tierney asked, angrily. Bender turned quickly to see him. He was snarling.

"Nothing - I just need some air," he said flatly. He got up and left the room before Tierney could protest.

He knew the house too well, especially the route to the roof. It was always empty, nobody else was in the right state-of-mind for climbing buildings. Upon arrival he sat down, resting his feet in the pipes. The bandanna on his shoe trailed into the waste. He looked over the edge. Not too far to fall - but far enough to die, if he landed properly. He couldn't remember how many times he'd looked down and just wished that he could topple over the edge. But something stopped him, and he didn't know what it was yet.

He stretched out against the roof tiles, closing his eyes. The background noises were slightly soothing, in a strange way. He could almost block it out entirely.

He remembered when he was a kid, how the other children talked about fishing trips with their fathers or family pets. So had he, but it hadn't been the truth. He'd tried to be like them, pretend that his life was fine. But then Lana Parker…

"You'd think it was fashionable to lie around like a bum," a female voice said. He could feel her body heat. So close. He opened his eyes.

He looked up at the girl. She was wearing far too much make up and far too few clothes. Her hair stuck up slightly, although he couldn't tell what colour in the darkness. He could see her nails, filed into sharpened points, although several were broken. A red dress with a torn strap, indicating a fight with her boyfriend or another admirer. He eased himself to a sitting position, still looking at her.

'Slut' he thought to himself.


	3. Sara

**Yay! Finally the next part is here. Just a quick thing - thanks to all reviewers and sorry about the delay in posting this part - went on holiday. If you want regular updates on my fanfics just check out my bio. Ok, thankies, please review - what do you guys think of Sara?**

"Will you stop staring at me?" John snapped at the girl. They had been sitting in silence for half an hour, but he couldn't just lie back and ignore the rest of the world when _it _wouldn't ignore _him._

"God, don't flatter yourself!" she replied, drumming a couple of her undamaged nails against the roof tiles, "Am I not allowed to look around a new roof?" she asked.

Bender turned to face her. She had sat down, probably because it was hard to balance on a roof whilst wearing stilettos. He could see her up close though, now. And it was only from seeing her this close that he realised that he'd never seen her before in his life.

She smiled. The type of smile that you give to a cheerleader, having just accidentally bumped into them and spilt your lunch all over them. John stared at her. The cold, disapproving stare that he'd learnt from old movies. The stare that could you make you feel like the most immature person on earth, and him like the wisest.

"No," he said, his voice full of scorn and disgust "you aren't."

The smile slipped from her face. She looked down at the tiles. John swallowed. He felt guilty. He held his scornful stare, though. The moment people knew when he was upset would be the moment when people knew his weaknesses. He wasn't prepared to risk anything.

"What's your name, anyway?" he asked suddenly.

She looked up, seemingly surprised by his decision to communicate, although a smile was evident on her face.

"Sara," she said, looking over at him. John noticed how the shadows emphasised bags beneath her eyes and high cheekbones.

"Well, that's a dumb name," he said turning away, pretending to find it stupid, even adding a slight laugh to the act.

"Oh yeah, well what's your name that makes it so great?" she asked, narrowing her almond shaped eyes at him, obviously insulted by this careless dismissal of her own name.

He turned to face her, catching her eyes and looking straight into them, holding them with a hostile glare, slowly filling with malice. "John, John Bender, just the kind of guy who you fall asleep next to every night." he replied, standing up abruptly, and walking towards the drain pipe, without looking back. He could feel Sara's eyes on him though, burning into his back.

She hated him, just like everyone else. He smiled to himself, a job well done. If you couldn't be sure that you could make people like you immediately, then why not just aim to make them hate you. You didn't stand a chance at losing that way.

He was telling a rather bored Tierney the whole anecdote when Tierney interrupted him.

"Hey, dude, that was my girlfriend's little sister!" he said, feigning mild outrage. Bender raised an eyebrow, he could see through the act. He guessed that it must be pretty hard to state plainly that you didn't care when the girlfriend in question was asleep on your shoulder.

"How old is she, then?" Bender asked.

"How is she?" Tierney asked, trying to ignore the question.

"You didn't answer me," John said, focussing in on Tierney, something that he knew made him uncomfortable.

Tierney shrugged "Jen's a senior, so I'm guessing a sophomore or something, but seriously, was she ok after you said that?" he asked, worry beginning to show in his face. Tierney was a guy who could still keep his head after six beers and as many spliffs.

"I've never seen her before though…" John mumbled.

"Yeah, I think they just moved here or something, will you please tell me if she's ok!" Tierney said, pushing his question forward.

John was lost in guilt, although he knew that girl's his age could be slutty and sleep around, they were in the minority. Perhaps he had been too upset about the whole stupid 'Breakfast Club' to bother with anything else. He scowled to himself.

"IS SHE OK?" Tierney yelled. The blonde, who John now realised was called Jen, sat up, wincing away. She looked around, confusion painted on her face.

"Somebody's stressing out," John replied evenly, raising his eyebrows, unimpressed.

"Well, I wouldn't have to if you'd just answer the goddamn question - is Sara ok?" Tierney asked, catching Jen's attention at the mention of her sister, she turned to face John, kohl rimmed eyes wide with confusion..

"I think she's ok, I don't know, I didn't look back, we'd have heard by now if she'd jumped off the roof," he said, trying to joke. This seemed to calm Tierney, but not Jen, a series of horrific events playing out in her mind. "All I know is that she hates me," he continued, smiling. Tierney stopped, as did Jen, cocking her head to the side in question "Yeah, she fucking hates me."


	4. I Don't Like Mondays

**Author's Note: I do not own Woody Woodpecker. Am also very sorry about not getting the chapter out earlier, but I had a total writer's block on this story. **

John's slightly obnoxious laughter filled the small house, as Woody the Woodpecker played out a comic scene involving an over-sized hammer and a tree-house. He was sprawled on the sofa, eating cereal in a white t-shirt and his boxers.

Oddly, he had already pulled on his biker-style fingerless gloves. He was saving for a motorbike, not that he'd told anyone, the idea of John Bender saving up his money - the idea of John Bender _having_ any money - was ridiculous to the world. He didn't want the bike because it would look cool, although that was a very valid point, but because he just didn't _need_ a car. When would he have to take more than one person anywhere? In his opinion, a bike for one was far better than a practically empty car.

His mother was in the kitchen, ironing her shirts in her dressing gown, she had to leave for work soon, around the same time as he was meant to leave for school.

His father was asleep, and Karl Bender was an incredibly deep sleeper. The cheery cartoon music was unable to wake him from his deep slumber.

John's clothes lay out across the floor. He needed to change, and began to. By the time he had pulled on his big Army-style combat boots, the credits were rolling. He ran a hand through his long hair. It's darkish brown colour was sometimes perceived as black. He got up, switching off the TV as he walked past it. He passed through the kitchen, throwing his empty cereal bowl and spoon into the sink. He stopped and watched his mother - how could she do this?

The way she walked around, her badly-dyed red hair pinned up with an expensive tortoiseshell clip. He wondered whether she removed it when she was with Andy - the 19 year old with whom she created so much betrayal. It was one thing to have it happening in the first place, but something completely different to walk in on them in the act. He shuddered at the memory, and couldn't bear to look at her. As far as he was concerned, all women were sluts.

He strolled into the bathroom, locking the door behind him and taking off his gloves. He splashed his tanned face with water, the more the better. He loved doing this, because tears could be so easily hidden by the streams of cold tap water. He allowed himself to cry only now, it was his outlet. There were so many times he had wanted to cry and held it in; on Saturday, when nobody had believed him for one. He'd had to go and sit by himself to contain the tears. Now they came out though, falling with the normal water and washing down the sink.

When he was finished, he turned off the tap and wiped his face with a towel. He put his gloves back on, without looking at the mirror as he passed, and headed into the hallway. He took his coat from it's hanger beside the door and grabbed his old black messenger bag, walking out of the house, and slamming the door behind him.

He passed his mother getting into her car. No words passed between them - they hadn't spoken properly since _that_ afternoon…

Shermer High School, Shermer. Bender approached the school, walking straight in front of a moving car, keeping his pace. 10 minutes after the bell had gone.

It was cold and somewhat cloudy, but still he wore those old sunglasses. He looked a little odd, with sunglasses, a large coat, and a thick scarf, but he didn't care.

He had taken his usual round-a-bout route to school, ambling through the park. It helped him to calm down before school. Nobody should be allowed to see him annoyed like that. He had to be cold, the only time he could show passion was when he was angry. Nobody ever seemed to understand that.

He loved to walk through the park, to look around the trees and plants and imagine what it could have been like for him if he wasn't John Bender. He'd have been happy.

A loud crashing noise brought him back to earth, back to his body and back to his crappy life. He looked around, aware that he had only just walked through the large doors leading into the school when he had heard the noise. Finally discovering the source, he raised an eyebrow. It was Brian, dropping an entire pile of books for the day on the floor as he witnessed John's entrance. An eyebrow raised with a smirk at a vague sense of amusement, John looked from the books to Brian before walking away. He managed to contain the desire to go back and help Brian with the books; it just wasn't something that people would be able to accept a guy like him doing.

Reaching his locker in the empty corridor, he hammered his fist loudly against his graffitied locker, allowing the contents to spill out onto the floor. Picking up the textbooks that he supposedly needed for the morning, and kicking the rest back into his locker, not caring as a cover of a Trig. notebook ripped.

He proceeded to slam the door shut, and then began walking towards his first class, English. As he walked he sang at the top of his lungs, a song that he had never actually believed in but knew that everybody else thought he did; "I am so great, I am so great, Everybody loves me 'cause I am so great!".

Upon arrival at English, having forced the door open with a dramatic push, only to stand in the doorway, his face lowered so that his eyes studied his boring peers whom he shared English with, he seemed to glower at the teacher in a somewhat satanic way. Miss Rink, he knew, was a total softie, and was most definitely intimidated by the hyperactive monster that was the teacher's John Bender - their own personal torturer.

Pushing her oversized glasses back, Miss Rink blinked rapidly. John became aware that every pair of eyes in the room were on him, but he didn't mind. He was used to the attention and curious stares, managed to zone out every time he thought things might affect him too badly. He had to, for John had an annoying tendency to blush if he was embarrassed.

"John Bender, late again?" Miss Rink said, breaking the silence that had encased both himself and every classmate. He merely nodded in reply, and Miss Rink sighed, gesturing towards an empty seat at the back, where he always sat. It seemed that the other members of his class had done him the courtesy of leaving it empty for him, or maybe they were just scared by the words carved into the desk, which were so similar to those tip-exed onto his locker door: 'Sit at this desk and you DIE' - John didn't really waste time when he was carving with poetic phrases.

John made his way to the back of the class room, entirely aware of the glares that everyone was giving him. He returned the courtesy, adding a couple of hand gestures that he knew couldn't be returned as Miss Rink would see.

Finally reaching the back row, which he shared with a wannabe rebel who seemed to be trying to follow in his footsteps, John eased into the chair, and settled in for an hour of desk carving.

He had been at it for about 10 minutes, when he noticed that he had, once again, captured everyone's attention. The reason soon became clear as Miss Rink began to speak again, in an even-tone.

"I'll ask you again, John; what do you think Shakespeare is trying to tell us with Romeo and Juliet's 'Lover's Sonnet'?"

Bender stared blankly at her, he had to. Despite being one of the smartest guys in school, he hid it. He'd been hiding this fact for so long that he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't. People had judged him on his parents first, forgetting that he wasn't a clone of them. So now he had gotten into the habit of acting stupid, despite the fact that most of the time he knew perfectly well what people were talking about, and even sometimes wanted to join in.

Eventually Bender opened his mouth to answer, and the class was suddenly aware that they were in for an asshole-ish remark "He's trying to tell us," he said slowly, as though trying to hold suspense, but everybody already knew what kind of thing he was about to say "That he's a gay bastard."

It took just those words and a smirk for John to get sent out of class, straight to the Principal's office. He didn't care, in fact he had grown to enjoy these little trips. They meant that he didn't have to waste time in boring lessons, and instead just got to sit and stare blankly at the Principal, aware that another suspension or at least a detention was coming his way.

As he strolled down the halls, arrogance in his every step, he smiled to himself, knowing that this was expected. After all, surely a guy like John Bender would be proud to have been in trouble so much in only the first two weeks of his Junior year.


End file.
